Just Trust Me
by CurlyHairedDemon
Summary: As Grimmjow attempts to gain Orihime's trust so he can use her, he begins to struggle with many unfamiliar emotions
1. First Meeting

Grimmjow realized what a strange creature she was when he first felt his hand slowly being pieced together. There was no one else like her in Las Noches. The residents were colorful characters, certainly, but no one else had that mane of sunset-colored hair cascading like a waterfall down their back, and no one else had those steely eyes that carried a kind of quiet dignity. The blue-haired Espada was fairly amazed by her healing abilities, and he was slightly disappointed when Aizen decreed that she was not to use her offensive maneuver. He knew Yammi said it was weak, but what did he know? And besides, Ulquiorra had apprehended her on her way home from training in the Seireitei. Who knew what she had learned there? Grimmjow would have given the arm she had returned so easily just to face her in battle.

The 6th Espada trailed quietly behind Ulquiorra and the young woman. He wanted to see if he could convince the petite woman to break her promise and at lease _show _him her offensive power. He waited for about ten minutes, and then his dark comrade emerged from the room. _Shit, _Grimmjow cursed inwardly as he saw Ulquiorra carefully lock the door behind him. As the 4th Espada strode silently off, Grimmjow walked up to the door. Well, even if he couldn't see her, he could at least _talk _to her.

He raised his hand to knock when he heard a tiny sob. Grimmjow's hand froze in the air. Okay, he could deal with _women_ but definitely not _crying_ women. Deciding this was a good a time as any to bow out, he started to turn around.

"I-is anyone there?" he heard a watery voice burble. Apparently, the strong front she had held for Aizen and the others had tumbled down.

Grimmjow sighed and leaned against the door, slowly sliding so he was sitting on the floor. "Yeah," he muttered to the floor. He leaned his elbows on his knees as he hunched.

"Is it okay to be talking to you?" Orihime looked at the tearstains on her short school skirt. Her comfy sweater seemed like a small hug, reminding her of Ichigo's polite "Good morning" Uryu's cold nod, Chad's stoic wave, Tatsuki's cheery greeting, _everything_ she was probably missing this morning at school.

"Probably not," she heard a rough voice chuckle ironically from the other side. "But I don't mind." Orihime turned and faced the door, shock clearly etched across her face. Was this… _kindness_ she was being shown? In _this_ pale hell?!

"I'm, um, Orihime Inoue," she stuttered, pressing the palms of her hands to the door.

"Um-Orihime?" Grimmjow snorted. "What kind of name is _that_?"

"Just Orihime…" she gave a watery laugh.

"Hm," Grimmjow didn't repeat the name. It wasn't that it was a _bad_ name certainly, but it was a mysteriously feminine thing that didn't belong rolling off his tongue. "I'm Grimmjow Jeagerjacques."

"Were you—"

"Yeah," Grimmjow cut her off with some embarrassment. Greatfulness wasn't really his bag, but, in this girl's case, he'd make an exception. "Thanks for healing my arm."

"Um, you're welcome," Orihime hugged her knees close to her ample chest and curled her toes, as she tended to do when she felt troubled.

Grimmjow paused. What was he supposed to say _now_? It wasn't like they could talk about hobbies or anything like that.

"…Are you hungry?" he muttered. Okay, playing butler wasn't something he normally did either, but, again, he'd make an exception if this was the only way to see her abilities. Grimmjow quite suddenly heard some measured footsteps coming around the corner. "Shit," he launched to his feet, storming away. He definitely didn't feel like facing the quatra Espada today, not over this _woman_. "I'll be back later."

"No!" she cried out sharply. "Please stay…"

"Nn," he grunted. "I'll come back later."

"Okay…" her voice still sounded sad and vulnerable.

"I _promise_."


	2. Second Wind

Grimmjow sighed as he reapproached the door. He had been pacing back and forth for about an hour between the door and the end of the hall. For some odd reason, knocking seemed like a terribly binding commitment to this woman who was desperate for companionship, but on the other hand, the only way to seek his quarry was by gaining her trust. "Aw, screw it," he muttered.

"Grimmjow?" he heard a voice ask hopefully from behind the door.

"Hey," he sighed noncommittally. "Did anyone bring your food yet?"

"Yes, it—" she cut herself off. Grimmjow cursed inwardly as an awkward hush fell over the door.

"Was there somthin' wrong with it?" he asked, crabbily running one of his broad hands through his choppy blue hair.

"Well, It's not that I'm ungrateful or—"

"_Get to the point_."

"Um, it was rather bland…" her voice was clearly injured by his deadly tone.

"Is there something I can bring you?" he asked, though his voice still seemed stiff and annoyed. He listened to the resounding silence from the other side of the door.

"No," she warbled quietly, her voice trembling. "Would you please leave me alone?"

"_No_." Orihime wheeled to face the door as his voice snapped irritably. "You made a big deal about me coming back, so don't you _dare_ tell me to go when I just got here. Now, I'm gonna get you some more damned food, and you're gonna eat it, and you're not gonna think it's bland. Got it?"

Orihime heard him storming to himself all the way down the hall. She looked at the door, the astonishment still plastered across her face. In his own way, Grimmjow actually seemed to be quite… _nice _wasn't quite the word, but…

"He's sort of like Ichigo," Orihime smiled for the first time since her arrival.

-

Grimmjow stormed into the kitchens, still muttering angrily to himself. Various Arrancar scuttled around fearfully as he strode to the overseer.

"C-can I help you?" the Arrancar stuttered.

"The prisoner wasn't satisfied with her meal," he told the little man. "Said it was too bland."

"Ah, well, I'm sorry to he—"

"_So make it again_," Grimmjow snarled, cutting off any chance for excuses.

"Yes, sir!" the man yelped. Grimmjow watched impatiently as the workers scuttled about fearfully, preparing a meal that they hoped would not be as bland. They brought him a tray laden with a covered plates and every bottle of seasoning they could jam on. There was a bottle of chocolate sauce, pickles, cayenne pepper, and a multitude of other, seemingly random bottles. Grimmjow knew very little about food. Arrancar didn't have to eat, but the prisoner and the former Soul Reapers did. The only 'normal' food he had ever consumed was the tea that Aizen always insisted upon during the meetings.

"Ah, this meal should be more to her satisfaction," the overseer bowed to him, his voice quivering slightly.

"It had _better _be," Grimmjow turned on his heel.

"Wait, you'll need the key," the little man stuttered.

"Of course," a truly wicked grin slowly began to spread across Grimmjow's face. "_Of course_."

-

Orihime quickly rose to her feet as she heard the scraping of a key. The door swung open to reveal…

Grimmjow nodded shortly for lack of anything better to do or say. Orihime couldn't help staring. She had remembered the scruffy blue hair and the jawbone correctly but she had not remembered how tan his large square hands were, nor had she remembered that broad, well-built chest being so exposed.

Grimmjow himself stared for a moment. The main thing he had remembered about _her_ were those steely grey eyes alight with quiet dignity and that insanely gorgeous cascade of wild sunset-colored hair. He hadn't recalled her porcelain pale skin that looked as though it would shatter if he touched it or that strange sweater that clung so tightly to her, and he definitely hadn't recalled that tiny skirt that only covered a fraction of her long, china-like legs.

"I brought your food," he muttered, simply to break the awkward silence. As she took the tray from him, she murmured a quiet thanks. The silence overwhelmed as she began to eat. Grimmjow twitched irritably. He hated this. The other day, despite her despair, she seemed completely willing to pour her heart out to him. At the time, this seemed completely undesirable, but now, _anything _would have been better than this deafening quiet.

He flopped awkwardly on her sofa to watch her eat. Orihime noticed something strange. "You always sit the same way," she observed as she wiped her lips with a napkin. Grimmjow cocked an eyebrow. Okay, that was…_random_ but at least she had broken the silence and at least she hadn't broken it with tears.

"Oh, yeah?"

"You always sit with your elbows resting on your knees," she allowed a small smile to permeate her face. Grimmjow seemed visibly pleased.

"I guess I do," he nodded after thinking about it for a moment. They sat for a less awkward five minutes until Orihime was finished. Standing, Orihime bowed politely.

"Thank you very much," she told him.

"Yeah, no problem," he felt his cheeks grow slightly warm as he looked awkwardly off into another direction.

"Oh, and Grimmjow?" she added as he began to leave.

"Hm?"

"It was nice to meet you," Orihime gave him a smile and Grimmjow felt his resolve melt. Smiles were something he _definitely_ wasn't used to seeing. Oh sure, he smiled, but it was never something kind and pure like this. His smiles were only when his face was spattered with blood of his enemies, when battle and pain were thick in the air. This smile was a simple acknowledgement of his presence, not as an opponent, but as a friend. That smile nearly stopped his heart. That smile was something he definitely wouldn't mind seeing again.

-

**This is called "Second Wind" because it… kind of fit. Oh, who cares?**

**GRIMMHIME IS SO MUCH FUN!!!!**

**omg!!! thank you so much for all the reviews and follows I got on this story! I will worship you all for more reviews! MOAR REVIEWS!**

**~Curls**


	3. The Threat

Grimmjow's visits to _her _chambers were becoming a daily occurrence. Sometimes he'd just poke his head in and made sure she had everything she needed, and other times he would sit with her from the time she awoke to the time she fell asleep, just listening to her. There was something so _odd_ about having a place where he could listen to her musical voice lilt on about everything. That kind of peace was something he, as a warrior, definitely did not recognize. His idea of entertainment was the rip-roaring ferocity of combat, with blood flying, swords flashing, and death hovering over like a cloud… But now, _she _sat around and talked about the smallest things, from books she'd read to those tiny little hollow lizards that sometimes crawled in through the windows.

Grimmjow tried to convince himself that the only enjoyment he received from this was the sheer _shock_ of experiencing something pleasing that wasn't the wild insanity of combat and what he perceived as the imminence of their battle. But really, he _liked _the interludes between fighting. He liked the peaceful feeling that he wasn't about to get a sword rammed through his gut. And most of all, he liked her. She had a pleasant aura that lapped around him like gentle ocean waves. However reluctant he was to admit it, Grimmjow really rather loved visiting with her.

"Grimmjow," she smiled immediately as he brusquely entered the room. That little smile of hers had been coming more and more easily as his visits became more frequent.

"Hey," he nodded roughly as usual.

"How are you?" she crawled onto her couch, hugging her knees to her chest. This too was a daily occurrence.

"You ask that same damn question every day. D'you honestly think the answer's gonna change?" one of Grimmjow's rough blue eyebrows arched irritably.

"Oh, sorry…" Orihime stared awkwardly at her feet.

"Quit apologizing," Grimmjow snapped. "It's fuckin' _annoying_."

"I'm sorry," Orihime murmured again, toying with the ends of her radiant hair. Her eyes widened in realization. "Oh! Oh, I'm sor—"

"I get it," Grimmjow smirked in spite of himself. "Just shut up."

Orihime opened her mouth reflexively but quickly shut it as she blushed embarrassedly. Quietly nodding, she nuzzled her bare knees. Grimmjow realized that the clothing she had been wearing for at least a week was getting rather dirty.

Grimmjow gave yet another furious sigh. "Didn't Ulquiorra give you different clothes?"

"Oh, yeah!" Orihime got to her feet, leaving him alone on the white couch. "He brought them with my last meal, but I haven't had time to change into them." She shook open a folded pile of white garments. Grimmjow snorted. He would have loved to know what ass was _gay_ enough to design a costume that ridiculous. He would have bet his blade Luppi was the one who came up with those ridiculously poofed shoulders.

"I need to grab something from my chamber, so I'll be back in a few. Change while I'm gone," Grimmjow gave her a curt nod as he rose to his feet and briskly left the room.

He sonido-ed to his chambers and grabbed his sword. Spinning to return to her room, he suddenly smacked into Ulquiorra.

"You have been spending much time with that woman," Ulquiorra's gravelly voice spoke simply, though Grimmjow could detect no small amount of gravity.

"What's it to you?" Grimmjow snapped angrily.

"Did you, in your ignorance, _completely _miss what Lord Aizen is trying to do with her?" Ulquiorra's voice remained the same, but Grimmjow swore he could detect the chill running through the halls.

"You think she's capable of bustin' outta here, let alone doing whatever the hell Aizen wants?" Grimmjow cocked an eyebrow.

"Well, _you _obviously do if _you've_ been spending so much time with her," there was a trace of cynicism on Ulquiorra's tongue as his green cat-eyes narrowed fractionally.

"Oh, yeah?" Grimmjow seized Ulquiorra's cowl and pulled the shorter man up so they were face to face. The fact that his toes were barely scraping the floor did not seem to faze the 4th Espada.

"Yes," Ulquiorra murmured venomously. Grimmjow realized the presence of the green cero just before Ulquiorra released it. Fortunately, _just_ was plenty of time for any Espada to move out of the way. Taking a swift sonido so he was behind Ulquiorra, Grimmjow eagerly laid a hand on his sword's hilt. Perhaps _La Pantera_ would see some battle today!

Ulquiorra narrowed his eyes even more and spoke in a frigid voice that would still the bloodlust of even the most brash warrior. "If you so much as _touch_ her, I'll kill you myself, you son of a bitch."

Grimmjow realized this was no threat to be taken lightly. He had never before heard Ulquiorra swear. The 4th Espada meant business.

Ulquiorra sonido-ed out of sight, and Grimmjow sighed angrily before heading back to the prisoner's chamber.

As he approached, he noticed a slim man with sandy hair bending over the lock of the door. The wiry figure stiffened as he felt the approach of Grimmjow's ferocious spiritual pressure.

"Aren't you Nnoitra's fraccion, Telsa?" Grimmjow barked out angrily, cokcing his head to the side and sticking his hands into his pockets.

"Yes," Telsa answered coolly, slowly backing away.

"And what the hell are you doing here?" Grimmjow walked towards him.

"That's the business of Nnoitra," Telsa spat disdainedfully, and, before Grimmjow could do anything, the slender man sonido-ed away.

"Cowardly little bastard…" Grimmjow muttered as he slid the key into the lock. "Hey, you decent?" he roared through the door

"Ah, yes…" Orihime said in a small voice as she pulled open the door. The dress was fairly outlandish between the strange sleeves and the ridiculous shoulders…

"You look…" Grimmjow stared at her, finally. "Stupid," he decided with an incredulous scoff.

"I know," Orihime sighed dejectedly. "I hate this dress."

"Me too," Grimmjow grumbled angrily. That tiny uniform of hers had already been whisked away by a fraccion, and those punks did _not_ slack on their work. "Tell ya what, I'll see about finding your old clothes…" he sighed furiously.

"Really?!" Orihime's grey eyes widened to their full, innocent capacity. "That would be so great!" her face burst into bloom. Grimmjow glanced off towards the hall, more to avoid the bright smile than to check for possible eavesdroppers. The faintest pink tinge broke across his exposed cheek. He gave her a rough nod, and, spinning on his heel, he stormed out the door.

She looked fairly ludicrous in her new clothing, he rationalized as he stormed down a staircase. He could simply not fight her in that terrible ensemble. It would be like fighting a pretty little princess from a sparkling castle in a magical land surrounded by _unicorns _and _fairies _and—

"DAMN IT!" Grimmjow roared, kicking a good-sized dent in a wall. That's _exactly_ what she was! A princess with fairies! Her goddamned _name_ even meant princess!

"Grimmjow! You're disrupting my experiment!" an annoyed man poked his bright head out of a nearby doorway.

"Well, you'll get the fuck over it," Grimmjow snapped at the pink-haired man.

"Your temper is worse than usual," Szayel nodded observantly, readjusting his glasses. "Has she finally pissed you off this much?"

"No," Grimmjow snarled.

"In other words, yes. Can I do something for you or should I just put up more walls for you to knock down?" Szayel arched an eyebrow.

"Her… her clothes…" Grimmjow muttered, the flush rising back to his face. "Did a fraccion give them to you?"

"Yes, but I completely picked them to pieces. That's what you were disrupting. Quite interesting, but completely useless," Szayel shrugged, though his eyes flashed madly.

"Oh, I see," Grimmjow wandered away, asking himself what the hell he had been thinking. "Do you have some spare clothing I could borrow?" he asked suddenly, cursing the words as they were wrenched from his lips. Oh, _why _was he so determined to keep his promises to her?

"Why?" Szayel relished in the pain the question brought his blue-haired comrade.

"None of your _damned_—"

"Now, Grimmjow, I can either use my observant, analytical, and all-around twisted mind to draw conclusions, or…" Szayel's grin widened, "you can tell me why you need them, and I'll give them to you regardless…" He stared at Grimmjow, already knowing the answer.

"She looks _ridiculous_…" Grimmjow muttered. "You honestly think I—"

"Why not borrow from Halibel?" Szayel posed a very good question. Grimmjow jerked as though Szayel had slapped him.

"_Hell no_!" Grimmjow yelped. Honestly, the idea had never even crossed his mind, but _now_— "Dammit, Szayel, just get me the clothes!"

"Oh, my, you naughty boy," Szayel shook his head. After disappearing into his chambers for a moment, Szayel returned holding a small pile of neatly folded garments. "Tell you what, Grimmjow. Give these to her and I'll see about getting you some of Halibel's things next—" Szayel laughed evilly as he sprinted back into his room when Grimmjow began to launch ceros that were almost as red as his face.

-

"Grimmjow," Orihime rose to her feet as a blue-haired man stormed into her room. "Is everything—"

"Here," Grimmjow muttered shortly, roughly tossing her the bundle.

"O-okay," Orihime was almost knocked over by the force of the toss. Grimmjow gave a frustrated snarl as he pulled her roughly back to her feet. She was unused to being on the receiving end of Grimmjow's fury, however accidental. Grimmjow stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him. He leaned against the door, gasping. He had never _ever _had such an adverse reaction to seeing Halibel in her garments, but the slightest mental image of _that _girl in such clothing was, well—

"Um, I'm done…" a small voice said quietly.

"Good," Grimmjow pulled open the door. He nearly slammed it shut again as he caught sight of her. While deciding who to borrow clothing from, Grimmjow had factored in the slight height difference with Orihime and Szayel. He figured Szayel's slightly broader shoulders would make up for Orihime's bustline. He had not foreseen that this garment would seem so well-cut, idly drawing graceful lines over every lovely curve, almost _begging_ to be traced by his square hands, and he had _definitely_ not imagined that it wasn't _quite_ large enough for her to do the zipper up all the way.

"It looks…good…" Grimmjow glanced off again in the other direction. Orihime curiously leaned over to see what he was looking at. Grimmjow _tried_ to avert his eyes, but…

"It looks really good."

-

Grimmjow showed up late for the next meeting of the Espada. He had not before noticed those animated gestures she used when she spoke, but now that every movement was amplified by that _outfit_, it was becoming hard to concentrate on the words coming out of her mouth, let alone the time.

The meeting went on as usual: a brief update on the status of the Soul Society's resistance, the new arrancar that Aizen had created… nothing too interesting. After the usual drivel, the elite warriors began to depart.

Grimmjow was about to begin his trek back to _her_ chambers when he suddenly noticed a tall man with a spoon-shaped cowl and a mane of greasy hair.

"Hey, Nnoitra," Grimmjow called. "Keep that damned fraccion of yours away from her room if you wanna keep him alive." Nnoitra snorted at the threat.

"If I were you, I wouldn't be so worried about _Telsa_ doing anything inappropriate," Nnoitra chuckled as a lecherous grin spread slowly across his face.

"Well, then, I'll simplify for you," Grimmjow grabbed Nnoitra by the front of his cowl. "Keep those slimy hands _off my girl_."

"_What_?!" Nnoitra squawked. Grimmjow's face reddened quite suddenly as he realized what he had just said. His _girl_?! What in the hell had he been thinking? Oh, sure, he didn't like the way the name Orihime sounded coming from him, but, really, there were _thousands_ of better ways to phrase that, and _Nnoitra_ of all people would definitely assume the very worst… But that was how Grimmjow had come to think of her… as _his _girl. And unlike her name, he loved the way it sounded.

-

**-_- kittyspada you bad boy. how sexist of you.**

**WILL DANCE FOR REVIEWS.**


	4. Pure Torture

Grimmjow panted furiously as he stopped at the end of the hall to catch his breath. _Damn that Telsa!_ he roared inwardly. The slimy little cretin had been, for what seemed like the thousandth time, caught lurking outside his girl's rooms. Grimmjow was perfectly willing to carry out his threat to Nnoitra, but that kid could _move_ when he put his mind to it. Swearing heartily, he slowly trudged back to the door.

"Grimmjow? Are you okay?" his girl's tone was slightly alarmed as she greeted him at the door.

"Does anyone aside from Ulquiorra and me come into your room?"

"Mm—" Orihime glanced away doubtfully. "N-no."

Grimmjow opened his mouth to accuse her of lying, furious that she would dare do such a thing to him.

"Why?" she asked.

"There—there are some… bad…" Grimmjow allowed his sentence to drift away, feeling suddenly very silly describing Nnoitra as a "bad guy" when, to his girl, everyone in Las Noches was a "bad guy."

"Forget it," he muttered angrily. "I'll come back tomorrow."

"Nnoitra," Telsa sunk into a bow before his master. "I managed to make a key for the prisoner's—" his cool, dutiful voice was cut off by a bark of cold laughter.

"That'll be the last time that bastard Grimmjow refuses to share with me!" Nnoitra roared with laughter as he snatched the key from his fraccion. "But don't worry, Telsa. If you keep up the good work, I'll share with you." Nnoitra let out another howl of laughter as he walked to his door.

Orihime felt miserable lying to Grimmjow. She didn't care if he was her enemy. He had simply asked her an honest question, and she had told a boldfaced lie. There _had_ been someone else in her room… maybe. At first she had thought it was just a nightmare, with that ghastly skeleton with a long slick of greasy black hair standing over her. But then, whatever it was noticed her and left so quickly… The next morning, she found that someone had thrown most of the cushions on her couch to the floor. It was if they_ wanted_ her to know…

She was shocked to hear the door scrape again. Ulquiorra had fed her all her meals for the day, and Grimmjow rarely returned unless he said he would. Well, if it _was_ Grimmjow, she would tell him the truth this time, she told herself. He was just trying to help.

A long foot stepped through the door, and a weedy man with sallow skin and that horrible greasy hair entered. The lecherous grin on his face almost touched the white eyepatch.

"Well, no wonder Grimmjow doesn't want to share _you_," the man laughed. "You're a sweet piece of ass, girlie." His visible eye roamed slowly over her body. "So what's he done to you?"

"Wh-who are you?" Orihime's voice was high and nervous.

"That's none of your damned business," the man pulled back his hand and struck her hard enough to slam her into the wall. She gave a tiny sob as she crawled on her hands and knees, desperately trying to escape this monster.

"Anyways," Nnoitra picked the girl up roughly by her shoulder, causing her to give a sharp whimper of pain. He slammed her back against the wall, and this time she was able to keep her cries to herself. Fingering her zipper thoughtfully, he suddenly yanked it down, allowing her breasts to push outwards against the tight fabric of the bra. Orihime's eyes overflowed with the tears of terror and shame as he looked at her again. His eyes started at the hollow of her neck and ran along her ribcage, staring longingly at the supple temptations hanging before him before they slowly moved along her little porcelain abdomen. Orihime made an attempt to cover herself, but the hand that wasn't pinning her neck to the wall suddenly shot out and harshly forced both wrists above her head.

"Don't worry, moron, I'm just making sure you're worth the trouble before…" he let his horrid grin finish the sentence. "Hang on." He released one wrist and roughly yanked the sleeve of the coat off her arm. He repeated the treatment with her other arm, despite her whimpers and sobs of protest, so that the garment fell to the floor, leaving her only in her hakama and brassiere. Removing he hand from her neck, he unsnapped the bra from the front and allowed the garment to tumble to the ground where the coat lay. Orihime was sobbing in earnest now as Nnoitra's grin widened further. As the tears flowed down along her neck and down her body, he moved his face within inches of each darker pink circle on the sea of porcelain.

"Yer definitely worth the trouble…" Nnoitra's tongue followed the salty tears from above her navel, over the bone between her breasts, and up to the hollow of her throat which he licked tenderly.

"What's the number on my tongue?" he asked her as he ran said tongue over her features, causing her to cry harder.

"F-five…" she sobbed. Oh, Orihime just wanted to die now. She hated this shame. She hated his rough fingers curling around her wrists as the other hand groped at her behind. She detested those bright black eyes and that hideous tattooed tongue. She just wanted to die.

"That's right, stupid." Nnoitra released her, allowing her to crash to the ground. "And f-five," he mocked her cruelly, "is greater than six. So if you tell little boy blue about _anything_…" he bent over to whisper in her ear as she desperately pressed her clothing to her chest, burying her head in shame. "I'll kill him." For emphasis, or maybe it was just because he was a sadistic bastard, Nnoitra gave her a sharp kick in the ribs before turning on his heel and storming out.

Orihime sobbed as she gathered her clothing. She sobbed as she put it all back on, fumbling with every zipper and snap. Orihime cried and cried as she lay down on her couch, only hoping that Grimmjow would come back before _he _did. Oh, if only she had told the blue-haired man the truth. Then none of this would have ever happened.

-

Orihime flinched as the door scraped. For the whole of her time alone, she had been trying desperately to heal the multitude of abrasions across her body, but she simply did not have the energy.

"Hey—" Grimmjow's brusque, annoyed greeting dropped as he spotted his girl slumped in the middle of the floor. Her zipper hung open to her navel, not only revealing those breasts to be every bit as perfect as he imagined, but also a dark, greenish-black bruise spreading across her ribcage. She had a black eye and from the way she held herself, Grimmjow could tell that the back of his girl's head hurt quite a bit.

"What the hell happened?!" he knelt next to her quickly, trying to comprehend the harm that had come to her.

"N—noth—"

"Don't you _dare _say nothing!" Grimmjow warned her.

"It—it—" Orihime suddenly threw herself at him, locking her arms around his neck as a river of choked, halting sobs erupted. "Oh, it was _horrible, _there was this _man _and he _touched _me and made me take of my—my shirt and—and he _threatened you—_"her voice shot up a few octaves as she poured her heart out to him. Again. Grimmjow was trying to keep himself from shouting at her, from throwing something, from the ways he usually expressed his unadulterated hatred.

"_Who did this to you_?!" Grimmjow's harsh whisper seemed to frost the room as he grabbed her shoulders. Orihime choked out a halting description of the man. When she finished, his girl was sobbing so terribly hard, Grimmjow hadn't the slightest idea what to do. He spread one of his square hands across her back and drew her close, roughly tucking her head under his chin. Grimmjow's white-clad legs formed walls on either side of her as his long fingers stroked the silky mane of fire coming down from her scalp. He couldn't think of anything comforting to say, though, as he toyed with the blue flowers in her hair. Grimmjow could only hold her tightly, trying not to notice that her shirt really wasn't zipped and that skin as pale as the moon and soft as the sky was tenderly melding with the brusque tan of his own chest. He tried desperately not to notice those gentle, plump lips catching against his neck as the sobs pulled themselves roughly from her throat. Grimmjow concentrated on that beautiful cascade of sunset pouring from her scalp, and the way it caught on the turquoise stubble coming from his chin… But even _that_…

"I'll be back," Grimmjow told her sternly as he got to his feet with her arms still around his neck. He put his hands on her waist and lowered her to the ground. His girl stared up at him with woeful eyes, another question already poised on her tongue.

"…please, be careful…" she murmured quietly, bowing, much to Grimmjow's shock as the edges of her unzipped coat flapped.

"Don't worry about it," he muttered brusquely as his neck turned a delicate pink. Turning on his heel, he started for the door, but halted. Muttering a soft swear, he turned again and, guiding his girl forward with a hand on her back, he planted a rough, sloppy kiss on her forehead before sonido-ing away.

Orihime touched the wet spot on her head with delicate fingers. Her grey eyes were wide with shock. He felt surprisingly warm to the touch, but that kiss still felt like an icicle plunging straight for her heart. In another time, she might have enjoyed this, even _savored_ this, but she was the hostage and he was her enemy…

Realizing her whole new set of problems, Orihime slumped to the ground as the tears started all over again.

-

**Hickeys from Hell would be a good name for a band. Reviews plz, because I wrote this in a hot car with two dogs on my lap as well as an uncomfortably warm room late, late at night. **


	5. Jealousy

Grimmjow felt empowered. That kiss was ridiculously spur of the moment. It was a flash of what was left of his humanity. What _was _left of his humanity? It only seemed that there was selfishness, possessiveness for what was his… but oddly enough, _lust_. Or maybe something akin to it.

His girl was just another trinket, he told himself. That's why he'd been trying his best to calm and comfort her; it was just because she was just something he didn't want to share with anyone else. Or was she? Lately, he had been thinking less about her abilities, and more about _her_…

Grimmjow shook off his wandering doubts, because his actions had left a burning sensation in his stomach which he was sure could only be quenched with battle. Killing Nnoitra… well, damn, he had wanted to do it before, but _now_…

He pounded furiously on the door.

"I figured you'd be by…" Nnoitra pulled open his door, his grin wide. "Squealing little bitch couldn't keep that pretty mouth shut? Stupid little—"

Grimmjow savored the sound of crunching bone and tearing cartilage as he plowed his fist easily into Nnoitra's nose.

"_Shut the fuck up about my girl!"_ Grimmjow snarled. The spiritual energy pouring off him seemed to smother the hallway.

"No, I don't think I want to." Nnoitra cackled through the river of blood pouring from his nose. "She might be the stupidest little thing under the moon, but she's still pretty damned luscious. And besides," with one swift motion, Nnoitra unsheathed his sword and cut across Grimmjow's torso, laying his ribcage open like a side of meat, "I _always_ keep my word to pretty little things like her…"

Laughing, Nnoitra slammed the door. Grimmjow's eyes were wide with shock. How had he been defeated so easily?! He tried to shift his head so he wouldn't drown in his own blood… but _god, _it hurt. A little cut here and there had never been enough to take Grimmjow down, and the passioned heat of battle always seemed to null the pain… But that wasn't a battle. That was simply slaughter.

-

Orihime jerked upwards suddenly as she felt Grimmjow's spiritual energy weaken and flicker to such a degree that she was positive he was dying. Orihime launched to her feet and pounded at the door. She knew that Nnoitra would follow through on his threat if Grimmjow challenged him, but she let Grimmjow go anyways. She needed to go save him before he died.

"_Please_ let me out!" she screamed as she beat the door with her fists. "PLEASE!" suddenly, strangely, the door burst open. Without a thought to the action, Orihime ran as quickly as her feet would carry her across what seemed like miles of hallways. At this point, it seemed like instinct alone was her guide. But Orihime would _not_ allow him to die.

She finally came into the right hallway and nearly vomited. Grimmjow was there, lying in a pool of his own blood. His entire ribcage had been easily laid open and everything seemed to be spilling out. His blank blue eyes stared up aimlessly at her. Orihime resisted the urge to crash to the floor in a vale of tears. Taking a shuddering breath to steady herself, she carefully summoned her fairies who began to heal Grimmjow. Orihime carefully shifted his head into her lap, ignoring the blood soaking into her hakama.

"_Please _don't die…" she whispered.

-

When Grimmjow awoke, the first thing he noticed was an inexorable warmth on his skin. There seemed to be a balmy light hanging over him, almost like a sunbeam. His back hot and sticky from the touch of his own blood… but his head felt odd. It felt as though it were leaning on a pillow of clouds, except did clouds make him feel this strange, and since when did clouds summon such a blush to his neck?

"Grimmjow?" Orihime gasped. Her face was covered with a sheen of sweat, and her eyes looked horribly fatigued.

"You—" Grimmjow attempted to sit up, but the pain in his chest was too much. "What the hell are you doing _here?!" _he snarled at her. "You know that we're right by _his _chambers?! You're only lucky that he hasn't come out yet!"

"Here, I'll take you back to the cell…" Orihime bravely attempted to support him with one shoulder, but her knees buckled.

"N-no…" Grimmjow gingerly threw some of his own weight onto his legs. "My chamber is much closer." Muttering disoriented directions into her ear, they slowly made their way to Grimmjow's chamber.

His girl helped him onto his bed and immediately resumed healing him. Her brow twitched with the effort, and her lips quivered from strain.

"I—I…" she murmured about half an hour later. His girl landed on the hard bed with a soft noise. Grimmjow rolled his eyes as he pulled her onto the bed. Tucking the sheets around her, he allowed one of his broad hands to trail through her sunset-shaded mane before he stumbled off the bed slumped in front of the door. The rising and falling of her side lulled him to sleep.

-

Ulquiorra had a _very_ bad feeling. He had been lying awake, mulling over his threat to Grimmjow, when a sudden multitude of spiritual pressures crashed like a tidal wave through his nihilistic mind. The one he had spent hours memorizing, that pure light sunbeam in this world of eternal night, that one troubled him most. He had detected her fear and horror, twisting and writing and screaming for help. That help never came. And then he detected _that bastard _going to her, and doing hell knows what, and then… he felt her fear again, this time much stronger. He knew exactly where they were and it disgusted him.

Sighing, he got to his feet. He grabbed his jacket and slid on his socks and sandals. Stroking his blade with no small hint of melancholy, Ulquiorra exited the chamber. He _really_ hated trash.

-

Grimmjow jerked awake suddenly as the door he leaned against blew off its hinges. A slim shadow cast itself across the floor. He looked up to see…

"Ulquiorra," Grimmjow scrambled to his feet. He was in no condition to fight the 4th Espada, as his wounds were barely healed.

"What did you do to her, Grimmjow?" Ulquiorra's voice and face were blank slates, and Grimmjow knew he was at his most dangerous. "No, never mind. Let it be enough that I kill you," Ulquiorra's sword whistled as it sliced through the air, and Grimmjow knew he couldn't dodge.

"I REJECT!" he had no idea how his girl moved so quickly, but suddenly, she was in front of him, her soft golden shield completely absorbing the impact of Ulquiorra's blade. There was that same look or ferocious determination in her eyes that had first caught Grimmjow's admiration.

"Step aside, woman," Ulquiorra seemed almost bored with the proceedings as he easily poised himself for another blow.

"No." His girl pulled herself up to her full height, which leveled Ulquiorra's chin and Grimmjow's collarbone. "He didn't do anything wrong!"

"Woman, you are covered in blood and bruises. Don't insult my intelligence," Ulquiorra sent a deadly look her way.

"You think _I _did this?!" Grimmjow barked. He really didn't like his girl defending _him_. It was definitely detrimental to his reputation. "Nnoitra didn't even pop into your head, dumbass?!"

"You're lying," Ulquiorra told him. "Woman, _step aside_." Rather than responding with words, his girl allowed her shield to flicker and die, but she quickly summoned another one. She held this in her hand, and the edges shone razor sharp. Ulquiorra's eyes narrowed.

"He's not lying. It was a man with a five on his tongue," Orihime's voice was steady and her demeanor was calm as she drew her hand back, ready to throw her weapon. Ulquiorra sighed and closed his eyes, nihilistically turning on his heel and exiting.

"That was…" Orihime sighed as she allowed her weapon to jump back to the hair clip.

"Dammit," Grimmjow muttered. He grabbed the door and lopsidedly slammed it back into the opening. "Next time, don't jump in for me. Not all the arrancar are level-headed as Ulquiorra. They won't be so happy with your shield." Grimmjow sighed as he turned his back on her, staring at the scorch marks around his door in some fury.

"Thank you," her tiny voice burbled. Grimmjow froze as those slender arms timidly wrapped around his torso. Her right hand, which was almost trembling, brushed gently across his stone-like pectoral, dragging gently. The heat of her body was amplified by a thousand as her hand finally came to rest on his collar bone, stroking it gently. There was a terribly odd sensation that, rather than she being warm, that the parts that weren't in contact were unbearably cold. He suddenly ached to feel the rest of that warmth, holding him, caressing him, the spring melting away his icy demeanor.

The real shock came out of the blue as her left hand slid across his abdominals… or where they would have been if it weren't for that hole. And suddenly, those fingers were not just on his skin, they were _inside _him, seemingly melting away the coldest depths. Her long slender hand gently brushed up against the wall of that dark, circular abyss.

"Don't." he finally managed to wrench the strangled phrase from his throat.

"Am I hurting you?" she pulled away quickly, her eyes wide with concern. Grimmjow shook his head, running his fingers through his turquoise hair.

"N-no…" he didn't like how disoriented the word sounded. "You shouldn't… you—" he had no idea what to say, he had no idea what he was feeling. There was a burning in his stomach, an unquenchable flame that begged him to carry out every last one of his fantasies. He knew, though, that he was teetering on a thin line. If he did something now… he'd be past the point of no return.

"How loyal are you to Aizen?" he whispered raggedly. "Be honest!"

"I…" Orihime shook her head in confusion. "Grimmjow, what's wrong?"

"I'll fight him for you…" he leaned in to her, slowly driving her backwards into the wall. "If you ever need me to, I'll fight him."

"That's not—" his girl's soft grey eyes widened further.

"I don't care if it ain't rational…" he whispered to her, reaching the wall. "Rationality isn't somethin' I'm used to anyways." He grinned wickedly before he caught her lips in his own.

Orihime's arms dangled senselessly next to her. Never in a million years had she suspected that any man would want her. Ichigo had Rukia, beautiful, perfect Rukia who was fierce and lovely and… But she had always convinced herself that she would be able to turn Ichigo's heart. A little part of her knew that was false, though. Ichigo adored Rukia, and she felt the same… Orihime let a choked sob escape her as she slumped to the ground.

Grimmjow immediately pulled back in some alarm. He certainly wasn't trying to hurt her, but his fear of her being as delicate as a china figurine appeared to be confirmed.

"Why… why doesn't anyone like me?" she wondered allowed. Grimmjow suppressed a groan of frustration as he flopped next to her along the wall.

"Why the hell are you cryin'?" he asked, repressing the irritability in his voice.

"I-Ichigo…" she managed to choke out. Grimmjow gave a frustrated sigh. While there was a slightly ferocious victory in wooing the orange-haired man's ally, he could not believe that she was bringing that _jackass_ up at a time like this. "I d-don't know why but…" once again, Orihime buried her head in her knees as she pressed them to her chest, her toes curling in agitation. "No matter how hard I try, he just doesn't—"

"He's a damn fool," Grimmjow barked, staring straight ahead as he pulled the quivering ball of his girl onto his lap and wrapping his arms around her. "He's a goddamned fool and don't let anyone tell you any different." As the tiny sobs continued to jerk themselves from his girl's chest, Grimmjow cursed Ichigo for making her cry. Slowly, slowly, her breath caught and she drifted into an uneasy sleep.

Grimmjow laid another sloppy kiss on her beautiful hair as he idly moved his hands up and down her back. He was troubled, though. Even though he had finally conquered her in his own way, this truly was the point of no return.

**-**

**Oh em gee. Flu, flu, and flu. My laptop has also been jumping off all available cliffs… Ergh, and a lot of people on dA have been clamoring for some writing… but enough about me!!! I thank you all for your helpful critiques and I hope Grimmy seems more in character this time!!!**

**Oh, and I meant to put something into my last notes but I was really whacked up on Scooby snacks, over my little hiatus, I made an attempt at… manga-izing, this, I guess you'd say? I only put out one page because I had a lot of other projects to work on, but anyways, this is one scene from this story:**

**.com/art/Angel-in-Hell-pg-1-127409584 just copy and paste!**

**For the record, I find grimmjow's actions toward her to be him taking care of his 'property' (and before you call me sexist, remember I'm a woman) making the slow transition into something else.**

**Oh, and nnoitra kicked grimmy's butt so quickly because… well, he IS above Grimmjow in rank… plus I was too doped up to write a nice big battle.**


	6. Truth and Truce

Grimmjow dumped her unceremoniously into her room the next day, ruffling her hair and reassuring her that Nnoitra would never lay a hand on her again. The blue-haired man wished he knew whether or not his promise would hold true, but as those tired grey eyes shone with relief, he decided that he would _make_ his promise come true, if only for the sake of his girl.

"Grimmjow," the seriousness of her voice stopped the blue-haired man in his tracks.

"Yeah?" Grimmjow asked the floor, all of a sudden unable to look into that lovely face.

"Did you mean what you said?" _About fighting Aizen for me?_ The sunset-haired girl finished her question silently. Grimmjow inhaled and exhaled slowly. The challenge of a lifetime. The fight of his dreams. And his reward was the adoration of his girl. To him, the answer seemed as clear as her bell-like voice.

"Hell yeah, I meant every damned word of it!" he gave her a cocky grin, suddenly swinging his shining turquoise eyes to meet her storm-grey set. A pair of arms was almost instantly around him, and Grimmjow felt her breathing deeply as if to take in his scent. He immediately covered her with his own arms, leaning down to smirk into her hair as a familiar warmth spread inexorably through him.

"I love you," she whispered into his bare chest. Unconsciously, those pale little fingers were digging into the 6 tattooed onto his back. Grimmjow turned his face swiftly, not quite sure of what to say.

"You don't mean that," Grimmjow told her severely, releasing her and jerking out of her grasp.

"It's the truth," her voice sounded so stern and equally severe that Grimmjow just had to look at her again. For some odd reason, the woman before him looked strangely different from the little girl who had been taken so unwillingly into this pale hell. Her orange hair was slightly curly from being unwashed for so long; it was springy and full of life, just like her. Those grey eyes weren't of steel, Grimmjow knew that now. They were thunderclouds, sometimes bringing gentle rain, but an occasional thunderclap or lighning bold reminded people who they were dealing with: Orihime Inoue, the healer, the protector. His girl loved him. His girl _loved_ him.

_What about Kurosaki?_ a niggling little voice asked him quietly. It was another reason to crush the orange-haired bastard, Grimmjow decided savagely. He didn't deserve to live after breaking _her _heart. No one who hurt his girl deserved to live.

"Orihime…" he murmured her name for the first time, trying the overtly feminine thing on his very masculine tongue. He reached out and touched a strand of hair. Those storm-eyes widened innocently; his girl obviously liked hearing her name from Grimmjow's lips. As she leapt up on tiptoe to cover those lips with her own, Grimmjow made a mental note to say it more often.

"The meeting," Orihime reminded him gently, breaking away, her eyes still wide and pretty.

"You're not my damned mother," Grimmjow reminded her irritably. He would not have minded staying a bit longer.

She made a little noise as she hugged him again, and Grimmjow realized what it was. _Laughter_. His girl—Orihime was _laughing_ for the first time in the few weeks she had been here.

"I gotta go… damn." he told her finally, regretfully breaking contact. The little smile she gave him was the only answer he needed.

-

As Grimmjow locked the door behind him, he heard footsteps approaching from behind. Straightening, he laid a casual hand on the hilt of his sword, preparing for a fight. The bone on his right jaw seemed to tense as he met a very familiar pair of cat-green eyes. The cream of Ulquiorra's broken, plated helmet contrasted starkly against the white of his skin. His hands were tucked almost boredly into his pockets, but Grimmjow could tell that they were tense to leap to the hilt of his own sword.

Grimmjow gave the 4th Espada an odd look as he attempted to read him. Failing miserably, the blue-haired man gave an irritable twitch of his shoulders as he walked toward the Espada meeting.

"Nnoitra?" the larger man finally managed to ask begrudgingly, the hand slipping of the hilt of his sword.

"Is being put back together instead of joining us," Ulquiorra finished coolly, falling in step with Grimmjow.

"Good," Grimmjow couldn't help but feel that Ulquiorra seemed… for lack of a better term, _smug_.

"Along with various other limbs, I cut of his reason for staking out the woman," as Ulquiorra easily rattled off the frigid declaration, the put-down of Grimmjow's girl almost seemed like a term of endearment. "It will be a very long time before he can touch himself, let alone make a female do it for him."

Grimmjow pondered this, realizing that Ulquiorra could be surprisingly crude.

"You're an ice-cold bastard," the blue-haired man declared finally, feeling as though a truce had been reached between the two warriors.

Giving him what Grimmjow could have sworn was a smile, Ulquiorra coolly replied, "Thank you."

-

"Where's Nnoitra?" Aizen asked calmly over tea with the Espada. The remaining nine exchanged glances. Grimmjow kept his face carefully blank so as not to draw suspicion.

"He was attempting to harm the woman" Ulquiorra nodded boredly. "I dealt with him accordingly."

"But I thought little kitty-cat was taking _such_ good care of her," a voice called cheerfully as a silver-haired man veritably slithered out of the shadows. "Didn't he want to go fight for his trophy?" Grimmjow's stomach clenched with Ichimaru's words. He seemed to know quite a bit more than he was letting on, and if he spilled to Aizen now… _Nnoitra's punishment would seem like a fucking picnic._ Grimmjow thought.

"Gin," Aizen's voice spoke simply and amicably but a sudden spiritual pressure roared through the room, immediately silencing the grinning man.

The silence was broken when the door creaked open and Nnoitra, who was wincing with every step, walked in bandy-legged.

"You've finally decided to join us," Aizen told him coolly.

"Forgive me," Nnoitra bent his head in respect. Ulquiorra twitched his hand as if to grab his sword, causing Nnoitra to flinch and jump back a few feet.

"A problem, _numero cinco_?" Aizen asked poisonously.

"No, Lord Aizen," Nnoitra shot the 4th Espada a hate-filled glare.

"Perhaps, Gin, you should set up the corridors for the guests. I can see they have arrived," Aizen continued as though nothing had happened. There were glances exchanged once again, and Grimmjow felt a swell of eagerness as he realized that Ichigo was there.

The spiritual pressures he felt were odd to say the least. The first one was sharp and cold, but somehow very delicate, like an icicle hanging above his head, dangerously threatening to impale him. There was also one that seemed like stone: strong, steady and unmoving. Another, this one seeming like a wildfire, spiking with power and little control. The fourth was very strange: it felt like an icy wind whipping at him, cold, refined, and untouchable.

Finally, there was Kurosaki's pressure: it was a whirlwind of everything, insanely out-of-control and powerful. The orange-haired Soul Reaper was poised for combat. Grimmjow was about to lick his lips excitedly when he remembered why they were here: _they were going to take his girl away from him._

-

Grimmjow paced irritably in his own chambers. He could feel the castle of Las Noches rocking as battles took place in the chambers below. At any other time, Grimmjow would have dived right into the furor, _La Pantera _flashing wildly as the frigid steel cut easily through the soft flesh of his enemies. _Soft… like that sunset-colored_—Grimmjow came very close to hitting himself as he jerked out of his thoughts. Her. They were here for his girl. But she was _his_; he, Grimmjow Jeagerjacques, had saved her, fed her, comforted her, _kissed her_, for the love of god! He would hardly give that up so quickly!

Grimmjow could think of only one solution: return her to the world of the living for a time. He would figure some way, _any way_, to get her back. Normally, fighting for Orihime (he did love that name after seeing what _reactions _it could elicit from her) to be his and his alone would have been ferociously enjoyable… But if he killed her friends, goddammit, she would never forgive him. And he couldn't have that.

-

Orihime could feel their—_his—_ spiritual pressure as her friends entered Hueco Mundo. They were coming for her, coming to save her, to defeat Aizen, and to take her home. Kurosaki, Ishida, Sado, Rukia, and Renji all were rushing to her rescue. At any other time, this would have thrilled her and brought nothing but hope, but now, _now_ she had told Grimmjow she loved him and he promised to fight for her… and it wasn't as though she could bring an Espada home with her!

Orhime looked up as she heard the door creak open. For one terrible second, she thought it was Nnoitra, come to fulfill his promise. Rather, it was two weedy girls who stared moodily at her. Wondering whether they were here for healing or to deliver a meal, Orihime rose to her feet.

"May I help you?" she asked politely. One of them snorted.

"Well look who's all alone." the girl with short hair smiled, cracking her knuckles menacingly.

"Let's play, Hime…" a girl with pigtails and a short skirt seized Orihime by the hair.

"When we finish with you, Princess," the light-haired girl whispered menacingly, "not even the lizards will want you."

Orihime realized that she had never really been injured terribly before. She got scrapes and bruises of all sorts from fighting hollows, but never so many at once. Not like any of her friends who she routinely brought back from the brink of death.

She, however, was determined not to cry out as she suffered her torture. That was what these horrible females wanted. They wanted her on her knees, begging, pleading, and crying for mercy, mercy that they would never give. They wanted to be able to laugh at her and kick her as she begged. Orihime would not give them that satisfaction.

She was thrown into the table like a rag-doll, her face already bloody and bruised from their blows. Orihime let out an involuntary gasp as the back of her head made a sickening thud against the floor. Through the haze of blood, she grew momentarily disoriented from the force of the blow.

The dark-haired Loli sauntered up to her, giving her a sharp kick in the ribs. As Orihime coughed up blood (she had seen Ishida do it; he had never mentioned it was this disgusting), the pig-tailed girl seized her by the hair and pulled her up, sending waves of agony through her already tender scalp

"Can't you be any quieter?" the short-haired girl looked nervously to the door.

"Shut up, Menoli!" Loli cried savagely. She ferociously glowered at Orihime, holding by the hair as though she were something foul. Orihime stared back, the quiet dignity still shining in her dark silver eyes, even though one of them was almost swollen shut.

"_You bitch!_" Loli snarled, slamming her fist into Orihime's nose. "I know! We'll rip out all your fingernails!" Orihime felt the bile seep to the back of her throat; she had remained silent for all the treatment, but she would never be able to restrain her cries with a torture as horrible as that.

Closing her eyes and bracing herself for the worst pain yet, Orihime unexpectedly heard footsteps approaching quickly. The door was blasted off its hinges (dizzy from pain, Orihime noted that this seemed to happen a lot around her) by an electric blue cero.

Through the smoke and rubble, a large silhouette loomed menacingly.

Appearing suddenly with the slightest hint of disgust and anger on his was "Grimmjow!" Menoli hissed in horror.

Grimmjow looked from where his girl, his _poor girl_ was being held by her hair, her grey eyes hooded with sheer agony to the two little bitches who were exchanging looks of sheer terror, and he knew that blood would be spilled.

-

**I've been trying to keep Grimspada as in character as possible, but do remember that a completely in character Grimmjow would have no interest in Orihime.**

**Sorry for the long hiatus! For once I know how I'll tie this up! 4 more chapters, probably!**


	7. Bolt out of the Blue

Grimmjow paused momentarily before he launched his right foot into Menoli's abdomen, slamming her against the wall. His face was surprisingly expressionless, Orihime noted blearily from where she now lay on the floor.

Grimmjow could never remember being this angry. When he went into battle, there was usually some form of ferocious ecstasy, but here, _here_ he just wanted to make those little scumbags pay for what they did to his girl.

Orihime closed her eyes, her ears filling with blood and blocking out the sounds of screams and fists against flesh. Grimmjow would wipe them from the face of this pale hell just for her, she knew that, but that didn't make her want to watch it. She tried to focus her energy on drawing out her fairies, but she had never been able to heal herself for some odd reason.

"You're leaving," he told her shortly, pulling her up by the front of her shirt so as not to further injure her battered arms.

"Huh?" she asked dazedly. She noticed that Loli was glaring up from the floor without her leg and Menoli was nowhere to be seen.

"You're going home. Come on."

"Wait!" Orihime finally managed to latch on to Grimmjow's words, noticing that she was dangling up over the ground once again. "I need to heal them!"

"You have got to be fuckin' kidding—" he cut his furious sentence short and ran a hand through his hair. "If you wanna." He angrily watched as the two women were pieced back together. They didn't deserve this. Those two little sluts didn't deserve Orihime's warm, gentle, pure healing. But he would be damned if his girl didn't get what she wanted.

"Let's go," he grabbed her as soon as she was finished, cursing her stupid sense of duty.

He charged down the hallways, carrying her in one arm until he found a hall where he couldn't feel any Arrancar approaching. Breathing deeply, he tried to ignore the battered little thing in front of him, staring up at him with a glimpse of gratitude showing through her grey eyes.

"Thank—"

"I'm tryin' to fuckin' _concentrate!_" he barked irritably. "Can you use your shield to catch yourself?"

"Y-yes!" Orihime was obviously taken aback by his tone.

"Alright," Grimmjow felt a spiritual pressure approaching at an alarming rate. The Quincy. Uryu. Sewing guy. Grimmjow tried to remember everything she had told him about her friend.

"_Miss Inoue!_" there was a roar from the end of the hall. A tall, wiry figure, clad in white with glasses flashing on his face sprinted down the hallway. The 6th Espada's eyes narrowed angrily.

"Shit," Grimmjow elaborated on his feelings. Fortunately, his portal sprung open, and, with a lack of elegance, tossed the sunset-haired girl through.

Orihime yelped as her white hakama billowed behind her. As the portal closed, she realized one of her clips had come loose in Grimmjow's lob. One blue flower spun away, and she realized with a pang that it contained the spirits that were supposed to catch her. She couldn't activate it without touching it.

Orihime, voluptuous beauty, flower-princess healer, prisoner of Las Noches was going to die.

-

"Fuck, I'm on _your _side!" Grimmjow roared, dodging a blue arrow. The Quincy wasn't paying attention. His dark blue eyes were wild with rage; he had lost control of his powers which were being exerted on destroying Grimmjow.

"You _bastard!_" Uryu roared, his glasses flashing in another blue explosion that Grimmjow barely rolled away from. "You absolute _bastard! _What did you do to Miss Inoue?!"

Grimmjow paused. From the dark-haired youth's reaction to 'Miss Inoue's disappearance, the Espada seriously doubted the hopelessly enamored boy would like to hear what he had done to 'Miss Inoue' in the past few days.

A sordid smirk crossing his face, Grimmjow grabbed the Quincy's wrist, ignoring the burn of the blue fire that made up his bow, and twisted him so he was restrained against the wall.

"My girl eats _really _weird food. I thought she was gonna barf when I first fed her," he hissed to the boy in glasses.

"_What the hell did you just call her?_" Uryu whispered raggedly against the white wall.

"She wouldn't raise her hand against anyone, even if she was in danger. I get why you're all worried about her," Grimmjow grinned as he bent the boy's head to face him. "But see, if I love someone, I take care of 'em. I don't let them slip between my fingers, like you did."

The Quincy kept himself in silent shame. "Then why did you put her back into the real world?" he finally managed to enunciate with barely-contained rage in his voice.

"Because she doesn't belong in this world," Grimmjow murmured simply, his own sadistic glee subsiding for a moment.

"But—but Aizen and the first three Espada and their servants are all there—" Uryu jerked his head out of Grimmjow's grasp.

Grimmjow's eyes narrowed in horror. He'd just sent his girl to her death. They would kill her the moment they laid eyes on her. "Shit."

-

A million things flooded through her head. She hoped Grimmjow wouldn't hurt Uryu. She hoped they could all get out alive and come home together and there wasn't any logical reason why she _couldn't_ bring her Espada home with her and the ground far below looked kind of painful and—

Two things happened at once. One set of hands landed on her wrist and shoulder while an arm wrapped around her waist.

"Inoue-chan," a good natured voice murmured in her ear.

"White suits you quite well, though I rather think the shihakusho look far more attractive on you."

_**Who saved Inoue? Does that thing between Grimmjow and Uryu seem like I yanked it out of a slash fic? Will I be able to wriggle MY bleach OTP in this fic? Was I lying about 4 chapters?????**_

**Wait and see, it really does, of COURSE I'll be able too, and yeah, I think I was.**

**Oh, and the title is sort of a pun because Grimmy's and Uryu's colors are both BLUE.**


	8. Turning Coats

They were the elites, of course. Ikkaku and Yumichika were two of the best fighters in the best Company in the 13 Court Guards. Intelligent, confident, and ferociously strong, they were champions.

Inoue was their little sister. She was _every_body's little sister.

And here, now, she had just fallen from the sky. How odd indeed.

"Lose this?" Yumichika held her hairpin up so it glinted in the sunlight.

"Yumichika! Ikkaku!" Orihime half-sang, half-shrieked as she launched herself at them for a hug. The black-haired man elegantly dodged her, while Ikkaku pinned her arms behind her back.

"Orihime Inoue, you are under arrest for defecting to the Espada," Ikakku told her grimly.

"_What_?" Orhime yelped. "They captured me! I'm no traitor!"

"Ikkaku, you shiny-headed _moron!_" a beautiful woman smacked Ikkaku so hard on the head that he dropped Orihime. She made a mad grab for her hairclip, murmuring her command so that a triangle of sunlight kept her from falling to the ground. Orihime spun on the platform to face the woman now standing in the air before her. Voluptuous lips, strawberry blond hair, and copious cleavage graced the attractive woman before her. "You know my Hime would _never_ trade sides, you idiot."

"Matsumoto," Ikkaku looked annoyed, "You know as well as I do that there's a warrant out for her arrest."

"If you even mention it again, _Baldy_," Rangiku snarled in elder-sisterly rage, "I'll force feed it to ya. Got it?"

"Got it," Ikkaku muttered in defeat.

"Are you unharmed, Miss Inoue?" a cool voice came from behind her. A slim blond man that Orihime vaguely recognized as a vice captain stood gravely, evaluating her.

"Rangiku, you shouldn't intervene on— OW!" a man Orhime recognized as Shuhei Hisagi had his reprimand cut off as Rangiku elbowed him in the gut.

"Orihime is our _friend_, you idiots," Rangiku roared. "She saved us the first time Aizen messed with us, and she can help us again!"

Grimmjow dodged blue arrow after blue arrow.

"For God's sake!" Grimmjow roared furiously. "I am on_ your_ side!"

Uryu's jealous rage blinded him. It wasn't fair. _It wasn't fair_.

"You will never lay a hand on her again!" he bellowed, a blue arrow clipping the tips of Grimmjow's bangs.

"The hell I will, you stupid brat!" Grimmjow launched a cero angrily.

"What could Inoue see in _you_?" Uryu shouted.

"Oh, will you _shut_—" Grimmjow grabbed the bespectacled boy's head and slammed it into a wall "—_up_?"

Uryu tumbled to the ground, not stirring.

"God, these humans are fuckin' annoying!" Grimmjow snarled to no one in general. A powerful and cool spiritual energy appeared behind him.

"You just now noticed this?" Ulquiorra asked disdainfully.

"Where are the other humans?" Grimmjow asked suspiciously.

"…They aren't dead," Ulquiorra looked slightly uncomfortable at the question. Grimmjow barked with laughter.

"Explain that to _her_," he smirked.

"Do you think her to be unharmed?" for once, Ulquiorra's question was tinted with concern as opposed to patronization. "Do you think she was able to help herself?"

"I hope so," Grimmjow shook his head. "Or else I'm in some deep shit with you, huh?"

"I believe I will let the humans take out their anger on you before I will kill you, if that's quite all right with you," Ulquiorra held out his hand, summoning a portal to another dimension.

"Did you just make a _joke_?" Grimmjow gaped incredulously.

He swore he saw the corners of green-eyed Espada's mouth twitch, but decided it was just his imagination. "Let us find her," Ulquiorra murmured with the tiniest hint of willfulness, and Grimmjow nodded with determination. The two Espada stepped into the lighted portal and out of Las Noches forever.

**I didn't want to go a full year without updating ^^; 363 DAYS! Wow! It seems like about a decade since I last touched this project! So much has happened to me! So many new experiences! **

**(The Uryu scene was influenced from the weirdest conversation I had with my good buddy, who is completely determined to propose to this girl he only knows through online college and is going to meet for the first time this May. While I listened to his gushiness, I appreciated his happy naïveté, though I felt like KOing him, and Grimmy acted out that particular fantasy for me xD )**

**I haven't read Bleach since February, so the remaining bits of this will be out of the current canon. Sorry, it's just reached **_**that point**_** in Shonen, where it's all "Bad guy upgrades! Good guy upgrades! Dramatic monologue!" times about a billion. Tell me when it's over, if it ends before I finish this story.**


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